


the story of how they met

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cute, Early Days, First Meetings, M/M, Underage Kissing, joe is a peacemaker, patrick is a drummer, pete wants to start a band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4876612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, kissing is the best way to make someone shut up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the story of how they met

When Pete meets this kid for the first time, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

So, he just stands in the doorframe, staring at Joe Trohman and his new friend.

Of course, Joe beams, reassuring that this little dude is a national treasure and — doubtlessly — future rock-star. Pete can’t admit it right now, because he sees just a short and awkward boy with drumsticks in his hand; he adjusts his knit cap every second, frowning nervously.

“Who is he?” Pete asks indifferently, but it sounds strangely rough.

Pete doesn’t like nerds, and this guy _(‘what the hell is wrong with your friend, Trohman?’_ ) looks like he wants to sink through the floor, and he DOES NOT look like a rock-star.

“It’s Patrick Stumph, man, I swear he is exactly what we need!” Joe speaks too fast, and Pete can’t even understand half of his words; Pete doesn’t care Patrick Who is this guy, but curly-haired guitarist is so excited, patting Patrick’s shoulder and confusing him even more.

Patrick keeps silence. Pete starts to think that Patrick is mute.

“Is this a band or kindergarten?” Pete crosses his arms over his chest, looking at Joe skeptically.

Seriously, Pete’s looking for a bandmates with good experience, and this _wonderful drummer_ can only bite his lips, trying to hide his blushing face under the hat. But his fashion sense is pretty cool.

“Dude, don’t…” Joe starts, shoving Patrick into the hallway, and Pete steps away, letting them go inside.

“What? I just don’t think he is good enough,” Pete shrugs, smirking when Patrick stumbles on his mostly untied shoelace. “By the way, that Hurley guy has already agreed to join us, and he’s much cooler than this kid,” Pete adds, running his fingers through his iroquois-styled dark hair.

“I’m still here, actually,” Patrick’s voice is soft, but something in his intonation makes Pete’s heart to jump up. “And if you think that being an _Incredible_ Pete Wentz allows you mocking me, you are totally not right.”

Wow. That’s not something that Pete had expected from this innocent boy without a hint of muscle mass. At least, now Pete is sure that Patrick isn’t mute.

It’s even better, right?

After saying his sassy tirade, Patrick looks at Pete with triumph, like ‘I Can Say What I Want Because I’m Not In Your Band’. Joe just sighs sadly, he knows about Pete’s specific sense of humor, but he doesn’t understand why the fuck Wentz can’t just bite his tongue during their ‘business meeting’.

Patrick huffs irritably; it seems like he wants to stab Pete in the eye, using one of his drumsticks.

“Can I smash my bass on his head?” it’s a rhetorical question, and Pete doesn’t expect the answer, but suddenly he gets it.

“I’ll shove this drumstick right into your…” Patrick freaks out again, and Joe protectively raises his hands up, standing between fighting musicians.

“Stop it, okay?” Joe rolls his eyes as Patrick punches Pete’s shoulder when the bassist tries to hug him in an accommodating spirit. “Let’s just go to the basement and hear how you’re playing. Patrick?”

Pete nods, cheerfully this time, but Patrick acts like a stubborn baby.

“I don’t wanna go to the basement,” he blurts out, tugging his knit hat down till it almost covers his eyes.

Pete facepalms.

Joe bangs his head against the wall with a loud thud and nervously-hysterical giggle.

 

***

In Pete’s basement, Patrick says that the drum kit looks like a pile of rusted buckets and gets a cuff on the nape immediately. It doesn’t make him more tolerant. Pete rubs his stinging palm, and Patrick clenches his fists, getting ready to use his drumsticks as a samurai swords; Joe decides he’s the only one who adequate in here, so he drags Patrick away and holds him in the distance.

“Stop being an asshole,” Pete turns to Patrick with a friendly grin. “Play for us.”

“Oh, I am _not good enough_ ,” Patrick puts a huge amount of sarcasm into his answer, and it’s even in the air now.

Joe isn’t a quitter, but he wants to disappear from the basement, really. But it’s the only place with good soundproofing, which is good for practicing.

“Dude, you are just too young,” Pete really-really wants to have someone in the band who wouldn’t be five years younger, but at the moment Pete has to deal with tiny and angry schoolboy.

“I’m older than Joe,” Patrick responds proudly. “I’m _sixteen_.”

Fine, Patrick considers himself as an adult man, and Pete doesn’t want to be a babysitter. He has to check this guy playing and kick him out of the basement; Pete doesn’t want to create a band with kids, okay? Joe is his youngest friend, and it’s enough.

Meanwhile, Patrick sits down behind the drums and starts to play some abstract solo, just to show his abilities and coordination; he’s so focused that it makes Pete smirk. Fortunately, Patrick doesn’t notice it, he’s too busy keeping the rhythm — he plays hard enough for a punk-band, and he’s definitely talented, Pete admits it now. Patrick is not a _perfect_ drummer — sometimes he misses the beat (looking angry and confused at the same time), and maybe he plays too loud and fast, but he is just an inexperienced teenager, and theoretically it’s alright. Patrick hums under his breath, and his lips move, but Pete can’t recognize the words or the melody. Maybe, it’s Patrick’s own song. He completely forgets that he’s not alone in the basement, and he drums more confident and even professionally.

But Patrick’s forced to finish his performance when one of his drumsticks breaks in two.

“Oops,” Patrick wipes his palms on his ripped jeans, flustered but somehow satisfied.

“Impressive,” Pete claps his hands a few times, exchanging glances with Joe.

“I told you,” Joe winks, elbowing Pete’s ribs.

Patrick bites his lips _again_ and brushes his reddish bangs away from his face; Pete can swear his cheeks turn pink not only because of his energetic drum-solo. Probably, his heart still keeps repeating that rhythm.

“You look cute when you hesitate,” Pete chuckles at Patrick’s reaction, and the younger guy throws halves of a broken drumstick at him.

Joe tries to calm them down before they start bitching again. It looks suspicious, seriously.

“Also, he can sing,” Joe informs. “But let’s hear it tomorrow, because now I have to go home. I promised to cut the lawn, and my mom is gonna kill me if the grass will be any longer. Come on, Patrick!”

Patrick leaves a not-broken stick lying on the drum kit and heads to the stairs where Joe stands, but Pete wraps his arm around Patrick’s neck, stopping him; Patrick lifts his chin up and swallows nervously, his Adam’s apple moves up and down against Pete’s forearm.

“He’s my hostage,” Pete laughs hoarsely, pressing two fingers to Patrick’s temple as a barrel of imaginary gun.

It’s just a joke, actually, but Patrick is not the one who likes being touched at the first meeting, so he wriggles and manages to kick Pete’s leg with the bottom of his sneaker. Pete giggles and pushes him at Joe’s side; intending to get revenge, Patrick turns away and jumps at Pete with a battle cry.

“Dumbhead,” Patrick hisses as Pete tickles his stomach, dodging Patrick’s fist and chuckling. Patrick doesn’t look _that way_ angry, though.

Realizing that Patrick will not help him cutting the lawn today, Joe sighs and silently goes upstairs.

Apparently, Patrick doesn’t feel more comfortable without Joe’s presence.

 _‘He can sing’._ Pete wants to hear Patrick’s singing, but he guesses it’s impossible during their ‘wrestling’. Patrick’s eyes gleam, he squints like he can’t see well enough (maybe, he used to wear glasses) and stumbles on his still untied shoelace again; when Pete slams Patrick’s shoulder blades against the wall to avoid falling onto the drum kit, he just smirks.

It’s just a safety precaution, but Pete’s hand placed on Patrick’s chest, gripping his The Stereo t-shirt, and his heart races; they stand almost nose to nose, Patrick is a little shorter than Pete, and the young drummer bites his reddened lips before giving Pete a cheeky grin.

“That’s sweet, Trick,” Pete blurts out, surprised by the fact that Patrick doesn’t try to punch him anymore.

“Don’t ‘Trick’ me, you are an assh…” Patrick promptly gets angry, but Pete doesn’t let him continue. It’s Patrick’s fault he has such a perfect mouth.

Kisses always help to know each other better.

The end of Patrick’s swearing drowns in his own muffled moan as Pete’s lips press against his; Patrick tastes like bubble gum, but with the copper flavor — Pete’s tongue licks the soft bitten skin of Patrick’s lips. Such a bad /but sexy/ habit.

Patrick lets out a desperate groan as Pete’s hot tongue slides deeper in his mouth; this little guy is noisy and loud as a teen that kisses for the first time in his life, he shakes with impatience and adrenaline, and it’s absolutely _perfect_. Patrick wraps his arms around Pete’s neck, leaning closer to him; boy’s knit cap knocked at the side, and his nose awkwardly bumps against Pete’s; it makes them both smile as they pull away from each other to catch some oxygen. Pete’s hands sneak between the wall and Patrick’s back, moving down and down. Patrick blinks, breathing into Pete’s lips, as Pete’s hands find their way into the back pockets of Patrick’s jeans.

“Am I in your band?” suddenly, Patrick asks, exhaling heavily but happily.

“From the very beginning,” Pete replies, remembering how his brain’s supposed to work. Yes, this drummer-Patrick-Stumph has a potential.

None of them tries to break the hug.

**Author's Note:**

> based on [ this photo](http://cs406628.vk.me/v406628541/877c/99DdMdaONrU.jpg) (the link is working, i hope)  
> \----  
> no argyle sweater this time huh  
> \---  
> russian version: https://ficbook.net/readfic/3842850


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